Walls do hold up roofs, floors do hold our feet, and bodies do give us places to dwell, but circumstances never stop coming around, do they, in these bodies we inhabit? The very scenario that creates my undoing is a custom made recipe in the kitchen of my soul. I am getting to exercise the muscles I need to work my zooming function. Zoom zoom in – and this girl can grab a pen and write the landlord a check for the rent for the house with the walls holding up the roof. Zoom zoom out and I say to you, What walls? What roof? What land? What lord?
In the zoom zoom out, I say, Wall. You do play with me by flashing your shimmering, particle reality. You tease me with the spaces between your seeming solidity. You call to me, saying go ahead and knock me down. Do you think the roof will cave in?
The birds developed such good muscles for zooming out along the way that they learned to fly out out out from here. They are not worried about winter or even night when they sing their musical canon, no!
As I hear word canon in my head, I have planted my tush on an actual cannon that was placed here to fight of the Spanish Invaders many years ago. Now it faces the marsh and suburban houses on the other side of the pluff mud.
The same way that the birds have learned to fly before we have developed that skill, there were people here on this land that understood oneness much more than the invaders, yet they were wiped away while we still work our way back up to where they left off, creeping creeping back to ONE. The Kiawah would say to you, what land, what lord?
i don’t have to leave my earthly floor to visit the space between the atoms of my walls. I can go in-between god’s blinking eyelids of creation and destruction in every every moment. But now god has gotten some pollen in his nose; one sneeze and the slate will begin again.
I will meet you in the next world, as shimmery and simmering as this one, with its wavering walls and all.
You reader amaze me with your compassion and patience for my ramblings as my walls are crumbling down.
Life as Improv 
When you write like this, Marga, I dissolve into a joyous feeling that fills the room entirely, slips through the spaces in the wall, and starts pulling hunks of grass out of the lawn with its madness. The moles think I’m their power animal. Law enforcement representatives from the business end of that continuum of circumstance– poets mainly– arrive to extradite me from this world to receive my final judgment in the next.
You’re free to go, friend. Take your medicine more slowly next time. You don’t have to do this all at once.
Artillery pieces aimed into the infinite,
Michael
When you write in response like this, M, I dissolve into the joy as well! Teetering on some outer edges of sanity, from the law enforcement’s view, pushes me even more and more solo (though I know I’m never alone:) Even if the birds chirp to me in constant agreement, an honest to goodness person, not only getting me, but adding to the creative free flow, makes me leak about the eyes with joy! (The moles and voles in my yard seem to be hard at work on an M totem today:)
Brava Marga! Quantum reality at its best! Particles in, waves out and then God sneezes and we start all over again. Happy to hear you’re keeping the simmering and shimmering though — would be awful without that. Great fun and I agree with you, totally, Michael ♥ Alia
I felt a bit on the mad edge yesterday with the pulsating walls and cannon infused jaunts into nature. I so love knowing buds such as you and Tomas are out there, and in here, with me as I tromp about the maya. Where are you and Tomas in the round world these days? xo! m
Still in the US — traveling back to Morocco in early April ♥
I love your ramblings 🙂 All shimmery and shimmering they transport me to a sweet place of peace where I remember it’s just The Infinite being itself – infinite. Nothing needed.
Alison
Alison, The Nothing Needed is returned to me again with your reply. I think we may be tapping into the free energy loop of human exchange – no power lost in the process of exchanging the infinite source of juju 🙂 xo! m
Beautifully expressed, Marga.
Zoom in, zoom out. I can relate to that.
The zoom button is so helpful to me, which nature always reminds me of! I sometimes get my hand held magnifying glass out to look at conundrums, when what I really needed was an airplane. 🙂 So nice to see you, Karin!
as if written in light. you are so lovely. ~m
Oh love! 🙂
Oh the flow! Perhaps the walls become rafts for you Marga, as you float so effortlessly downstream. Or upstream? Not sure, I think perhaps your walls are magic, like carpets. Anywhere you please, on the Marga ride. This writing lifts all burdens with helium and bright colors, and transforms sheet rock into fishing bobbers. I like it!!
Your psychic juju is definitely powered up as you make your observations by the concrete pool 🙂 There is lots of water and impromptu raft making going on, as of late around here. Feels like upstream, until I remember to stop paddling. Shall we go along like fishing bobbers? I think you are in on it all! xo!! m